Look At Where We Started
by AwesomeGizmo
Summary: When George first sees this *boy* that his advisors have brought him he's half tempted to laugh and dismiss him. This was the renowned Hamilton? The one that stole British canons? He's a child. (Washington and Hamilton's first meeting, and the consequent escapades that ensue after George decides that this young, scrappy, and hungry boy would be his new aide-de-camp.)
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: Ah yes, another ficlet with no historical accuracy, my favourite. This story is actually a 'thank you' gift to all my loyal and dedicated readers, my first Hamilton oneshot surpassed 1000 views! Like oh my gosh, thank you! This is especially for you guys, I didn't post this one up on Fanfiction ;D**

 **Aight so first off, once again, this story is based almost completely on the musical, and not Hamilton's actual life. So yeah, enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer, all rights go to their respective owners.**

When George first sees this _boy_ that his advisor has brought him he's half tempted to laugh and dismiss him. The man standing before him was scrawny, looks like he hadn't enjoyed a full meal in his entire life, and couldn't be more than nineteen, _at mos_ t.

Yet, this was the renowned Hamilton that he'd heard his comrades rave about, the one who stole British canons. This boy had been approached by some of the best, and he turned them down. Why?

For the most part this child was unassuming, he stood before George without judgement, his arms tucked respectfully behind his back and his gaze tilted downwards.

"Have I done something wrong, sir?" Washington needed to figure this boy out in the span of five minutes, he chose his words wisely.

"On the contrary, I called you here because our odds are beyond scary." At this Hamilton looked up, his brow furrowed in mild confusion. "Your reputation precedes you, but I have to laugh." George played on the boys pride, trying to get a sense of his person.

"Sir?" He kept his expression guarded, not making a move until he knew he could keep control of the situation.

In all the other meetings he'd had with prospective young men, George had, at least as far as a five minute meeting could go, figured out the basics of their characters, who they were. With Hamilton, he couldn't.

He'd been told that this boy's pride was about as hot as his temper, and his respect was a hard won prize. He was quick to act or speak before thinking yet asserted a certain cleverness. Above all, he was told of the boy's skill and proficiency with the quill.

"Hamilton, how come no one can get you on their staff?" George moved from behind his desk to the liquor, pouring himself a glass. His goal was to seem casual, non-threatening. Everything about this boy screamed that he would lose him if he went on the defensive.

"Sir!" He starts forward, ready to defend himself, but stopped short as George raised a placating hand.

"Don't get me wrong, you're a young man of great renown." Washington offered Hamilton a drink but the boy shook his head, quelled for now. He resumed his stance as the respectful subordinate. "I know you stole British canons when we were still downtown," he watches the boy carefully from behind the rim of his glass "Nathaniel Greene and Henry Knox wanted to hire you…"

"To be their secretary, I don't think so." There it is.

"Now why are you upset?" Despite the nature of his words his tone betrayed his amusement.

It seemed to occur to Hamilton that he may have offended or disrespected his general, for he began to glare down at the floor once more.

"I'm not."

Washington had seen _something_ just now, he knew he had. For some inexplicable reason Washington found that this boy in front of him, who by no means should do so, reminded him of himself.

"It's alright you want to fight," he said. Hamilton looks up, a spark of something in his eye that looked vaguely like hope. "You've got a hunger; I was just like you when I was younger."

Young, foolish, ambitious.

"Head full of fantasies of dying like a martyr…"

"Yes-" _You're too young to die, boy._

"Dying is easy, young man, living is harder."

"Why are you telling me this?" By now, George would have had a read on any other man, such was his ability to judge character. This one though, this young, scrappy, hungry boy standing before him alluded him.

He'd only just begun to scrape the surface of the enigma that was Alexander Hamilton, yet he found that he was quite content to continue trying.

If George hires this one he'd be trouble, he knew so but oh… he'd also be brilliant.

"I'm being honest, I'm working with a third of what our Congress has promised." Washington sits at his desk, still nursing the whisky with a deep look to his eye. "We are a powder-keg about to explode, I need someone like you to lighten the load. So?"

He had not been planning on hiring anyone today but something about the officer drew him in, there was no doubt in Washington's mind that if Hamilton took this position together they would be great. He took his own quill in hand, and offered it to the young man in front him.

Alexander stared at the offered quill, it beckoned him. He didn't want to be a secretary, he had made that clear, and yet… This could be his chance. This was _George Washington_ , rejecting an offer like this would make him a fool, and Alexander Hamilton prided himself on being no fool.

His eyes, quick like daggers, flew to meet Washington's as he gave an ever subtle nod of agreement.

George felt the edges of his mouth turn up as the boy finally left his head and indicated his agreement. The quill was taken from his fingers and in the next second the boy was sat and beginning his business, surprising George with an eagerness he hadn't expected from Hamilton's earlier hesitation.

"Son, we are outgunned, outmanned…"

"You need all the help you can get, I have some friends Laurens, Mulligan, Marquis de Lafayette. Okay, what else?"

Washington had a hard time controlling his facial expressions as the quill flew across the page and Hamilton, barely in the position for five minutes, took his task in stride and flourished.

"Outnumbered, out-planned…" Washington lamented, intent on going on but apparently needn't to, for his young aide's quill still did not stop.

"You need some spies on the inside, some King's men who might let some things slide," Hamilton suggested. George could only sit and watch in amazement at this little hurricane in his office. Of course he'd entertained the idea of recruiting spies, but had thought the actual notion of doing so impossible, and yet, when Hamilton said so he suddenly began to entertain the idea.

"I'll write to Congress and tell them we need supplies, rally the guys, master the element of surprise." Alexander seemed to be talking to only himself now, so lost in his work, God knows what he was even writing, he'd only been hired for a few minutes.

Gathering the rest of his things he stood, matching the general's warm gaze with a sincerely loyal one.

"I'll rise above my station, organize your information, till we rise to the occasion of our new nation," he promises, youthful hope and gratitude shining back at Washington. He blinks and finds that Hamilton has taken an excited leave, gone off to make miracles happen no doubt.

He wants a command, glory for his name perhaps. Washington could tell that much, he'd been _told_ that much. For now, young Officer Hamilton would be content with working as Washington's 'right hand man,' but it won't last.

Yet when Washington thought of sending that boy into battle, so young and full of promise, his stomach twisted unpleasantly, even after just meeting him. He wanted to protect him, if only to utilize his skills, of course.

 _'He's so young,'_ George mused. _'How can he be ready to die, with an entire lifetime ahead of him?'_

That night, he would announce Hamilton as his new aide. The boy would move into his quarters the following morn, and would begin his duties immediately afterwards. He would allow a grace period of course, while he transitioned from one routine of life to another.

George Washington was looking forward to this new endeavour, something in his gut told him that his life was about to change for the better with his new aide

* * *

"Here comes the General!" Alexander looked up in surprise at John's voice, his earlier conversation with General Washington replaying in his mind. Did he want Alexander immediately? "What causes him to make rounds around the camp like a common guard?"

"Mon ami, did you not speak to us earlier that you and Monsieur Washington met earlier?"

"You did?" Burr interrupted Alexander before any words could begin to properly formulate, looking between Lafayette, John, and Alexander as if he had missed something. Which, he had.

"Yes. Briefly, this afternoon," Alexander replied, unsure if it was proper to announce his promotion before the general had formally acknowledged him. What if he was coming to tell Alexander that he'd changed his mind?

"What was said in this apparent conversation?"

"Come now, Burr. I try not to make it a habit to gossip private conversations."

"Just publicly rebuke them, apparently." Hamilton smirked against his cup, taking a slow sip.

At that moment, Washington entered their tent. The men nearly spilled half the wine in their haste to stand for him, and Hamilton felt his breath catch in his throat.

Washington's presence filled the room, his gaze warm yet commanding, his frame strong and proud. Alexander admired the way he seemed to draw everyone's attention, how he demanded their respect without speaking. George Washington was born to be a leader.

"Hamilton, come with me."

"Yes, Your Excellency." There was no hesitation in the boy's response but he cast an almost nervous glance to his friends as they departed.

Burr watched warily as Alexander was lead away by their commander-in-chief, the hints of jealousy colouring his cheeks.

"All of you may come, actually," Washington added as they crossed the threshold of the tent, "I've an announcement to make and I'm sure you would make it your greatest interest to be present."

The men rose, casting confused glances at each other as they followed Washington out, the party was soon met by others, roused in a similar fashion, all sharing the same confusion. Eventually they arrived at what was serving as a mess hall for the soldiers, but main function was a pub.

"Officer, if you would do me the service of fetching the ale, and filling a cup for all present."

"Yes, sir, right away sir." The officer scampered away to fulfill his task while Washington surveyed the room.

He didn't like to learn names and faces, ages, backstories, all those sorts of things, about his men. Not when he sent so many of them to their deaths. He'd learned over the course of his career that being a general and being a man were two separate things.

So it was not by his consent that he noticed that all of these men seemed so young to be fighting a war, nor that almost half wore wedding bands on their fingers. They chirped with excitement and hope, of a new nation that they could build a family on. George had wanted that too, once.

A cup was placed into his hand and before he had a chance to thank the young man he had disappeared with a bow back into the crowd. Once all present had their drinks he called for their attention, which was most likely unnecessary, when they had all been watching him like an eagle for the past five minutes.

"Gentlemen. Comrades, I called this impromptu gathering with the intention of making an announcement. However, now that we are all here I think it would do no harm in making a toast."

Hamilton shifted on his feet, as many of the other men did, nervous with the general's true intent and not keen on waiting through a toast to find out.

"To the bravery and sacrifice of every single one of you here. You have all given up something, a brother, a wife, a family, and in their stead you have chosen to fight for liberty, and the God given rights of every man. To you, we toast, to our fallen comrades, to yourselves, and to freedom!" Washington thrust his cup up, and his men followed suit, yet before he could go on another voice spoke from behind him.

"And to General Washington!" There was no explanation of why Hamilton added his name into their toast, nor did his men need one, for there was a chorus of replies that toasted his name before drinking.

This was odd for George, who never thought that what he did in the war was more important, or honourable for that matter, than the men who lived and died for him.

The general once again held the attention of everyone as the cacophony of sound quieted. There was little to celebrate lately, and all men waited with bated breath to what this announcement may be.

"This gathering serves an announcement and an introduction. It was announced not three weeks ago that I was in search for an aide-de-camp. I am here today to introduce you to the fine young man who shall be serving me in this endeavour."

Burr's eyes flashed with understanding, flicking over to Alexander with ill-concealed envy. Hamilton on the other hand stood proudly yet humbly, and ever attentive to the general's words. After all, that would be his life after this.

Washington looked back to where Hamilton stood and ushered him forth, clapping his hands on the boy's shoulders with a familiarity that seemed natural despite their short acquaintance.

"My aide-de-camp, Alexander Hamilton, will be serving me for the next foreseeable future. I hope you all congratulate your brother in arms in this promotion, as I'm sure you all are aware that he has earned it with work of the highest calibre."

While Hamilton had flinched at his initial contact, he smiled sheepishly now while the company toasted to his name. He could see John excitedly cheering him on, along with Gilbert and Hercules. Burr was clapping politely but seemed tense.

Most of the men looked happy or at least amiable to the news but there were a few that seemed… less so.

Alexander had long ago learned to recognized resentment in the eyes of men, his time on Nevis had made sure of it, and so he could see clearly the resentment shining in the eyes of a few of his comrades.

He removed himself from the general's grasp, politely shaking his hand instead.

"I dedicate myself to your service, Your Excellency." His voice was unusually soft but held all the decorum that should accompany speaking with the leader of the continental army.

Washington smiled kindly and clapped Alexander on the back, making him once again flinch.

"I'm looking forward to it, Hamilton."

 **A.N: So there's the first chapter, short, little thing it is but it's just supposed to set the premise I suppose? I dunno, I wanted to write something and couldn't exactly think of anything super plot based at this point.**

 **This is definitely going to be multichapter though, so shoot me a review of what you'd like to see in this story. (If I get 10 reviews within a week my general rule is that I'll have another chapter up in that time as well.)**

 **So this is going to be a Washingdad story, naturally, but I'm not sure if I should add it to my series because it may not follow that universe? I don't know, tell me what you think in the reviews.**

 **Thanks for your time, I love you all so much! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. Let's just get right into this.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights are to their respective owners.**

* * *

"So tell us Hamilton, how is it being Washington's pet?"

Hamilton did his best to ignore the jeers coming from his comrade, having been reprimanded two weeks earlier by Washington for getting to a fist fight with a _different_ man for the same reason.

Of course he had left out the bit that the fight had been over Washington.

He'd been working as Washington's aide for a little over a month now, and while most men either didn't care or were happy enough for him, there were some that were obviously harbouring hostilities.

Alexander knew that it would turn out that way, after all, he was perceptive by nature. He just hadn't thought that he wouldn't be able to clear up any 'misconceptions' with his fists, as he had on the island.

"Are you allowed to sleep at the foot of his bed? Further maybe? Perhaps the inner workings of George Washington are more perverted than we think."

At this Hamilton stopped, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"You want to take that back Ainsley," he asked in a growl, "because I'll give you one chance to take it back."

"I see no reason to apologize for voicing what everyone is thinking. Besides, you won't do anything, I heard Daddy was cross last time, did little Alexander get in trouble?"

Alexander Hamilton was not one to back down from a fight, but when he was carrying a pile of missives, all _urgent_ in their own ways, and he was already late for a meeting with the general, he could.

"I don't need this from you. Screw off and leave me be, Ainsley. Don't you have horses to attend to?"

Hamilton shoved past him, fuming, but not ready to come to blows about it. While Ainsley looked positively enraged Alexander was sure it would pass in a few hours of separation.

Washington's ire however, was not so easily sated.

So when Hamilton entered, none too early for their scheduled meeting, George greeted him cooly. Yes, the boy did good (amazing) work, and yes, the boy had almost unlimited potential, but Christ Almighty, he was _trouble_. More than had been anticipated. _Don't delude yourself old man, you enjoy it._

"Is there any particular reason that you have strolled into this office no less than fifteen minutes late, Hamilton?"

"None that are worth voicing, Your Excellency." Alexander's expression was repentant, he seemed to wilt under George's stern glare.

"I don't particularly care what you do outside these quarters, Hamilton." _Liar, you monitor that boy constantly._ "As long as it does not reflect poorly on me. You are given a stunning amount of freedom as my aide, more than most in the same position are shown, all I ask is that you follow my commands."

"Yes, I understand but-"

"Do not interrupt me, boy." Washington's deep rumble filled the room, and Alexander looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. "I hope, for your sake, that wherever you were it wasn't brawling."

"No, Your Excellency, I was…" Hamilton trailed off, trying to formulate an excuse that left out his confrontation with Ainsley. "I was occupied with a comrade, my deepest apologies."

Washington grunted and crossed his arms, but relented. "We've wasted enough time as it is, sit down and relay the missives."

Hamilton wasted no time after that, immediately taking his place by the general and beginning his morning routine. Hamilton knew that the opportunity he'd been given was one in a million, and that he should be immensely grateful to the general; that if the fact that he was a bastard ever got out he'd be finished.

Washington would periodically glance at Alexander throughout the day, making the boy feel uneasy. He'd never liked being scrutinized, worried stirrings began to make it's way into the boy's head, replacing his concentration with useless thoughts.

Washington noticed. Alexander was clever, brilliant, and definitely fidgeting. If the child thought he was concealing his discomfort he was horribly wrong.

"Hamilton, is there something the matt-"

"Alexander! "

Lafayette burst into their quarters in his usual fashion, with absolutely no sense of volume and a strange exuberance only Gilbert could pull off.

"Quel est le problème?" Alexander shot out from his seat, the words falling from his mouth so quickly George wondered if he even knew they'd escaped.

"Les messagers sont rentrés et ils sont blessés graveleux," Lafayette exclaimed. Hamilton paled.

George hadn't even known the boy knew French.

"Emmenez-moi là."

Lafayette dashed out and Hamilton moved to follow him, until his arm was grabbed by the general who had, somehow, in the excitement found his way closer to the young men.

"What's going on Alexander?"

"They have returned injured," the boy panted. "They've news, urgent news."

Before George could reply the boy was gone, chasing after his friend. George dashed after Hamilton, still reeling from the excitement of the last two minutes.

"Make way, urgent business," Hamilton was calling ahead, ducking under and through the commotions of the camp.

"Move!" Lafayette was less eloquent.

Hamilton had to skid to a stop outside of the healing quarters, barely refraining from bursting through the doors. Two of the guards stiffened at their hastened arrival but relaxed as they recognized the young officer who they knew to be Washington's aide-de-camp.

"I'm most anxious of the messengers' state of being, have you any speculations of the cause of their injuries?" Hamilton asked, trying to catch his breath before entering.

"I'm afraid not, at liberty to say, sir. Though I shall divulge this, the poor men were in poor shape, recognizably so. On another note, I've seen far too many men succumb to infected gunshots, tragic it is." The guard threw a meaningful look which Hamilton reciprocated, clapping him on the shoulder before beckoning towards the door. Lafayette entered first, being too worried to formulate an English gratitude.

"Hamilton!" Washington approached just as Alexander was opening the door. "What _the Hell_ is going on?"

"We're not entirely sure, Your Excellency. I was just about to inquire on the condition of the messengers."

"A little foreword would be appreciated Hamilton, before you dash out of my office like a madman."

Alexander let go of the door and faced the general fully, his chin up in defiance.

"I explained, briefly, before I left, General. I'm sorry if you did not understand my explanation."

"Was I supposed to understand you and the Marquis' rapid conversation in French, or the vague, barely multi-worded answer you gave on my inquiry?" George retorted, sarcasm absolutely dripping form his voice.

The guard with whom Hamilton had been speaking tilted his head down as he fought the urge to chuckle.

Hamilton clenched his jaw, saying nothing, he turned from Washington and marched into the infirmary. Washington rolled his eyes at the boy and followed.

The general was instantly sobered by the sight before him. Lafayette was knelt next to one of the messengers, speaking in low whispers and grasping the man's arm as he struggled with the pains from his wounds. Alexander knelt in a similar position, the paleness of their skin amplified by the glow of the lanterns. The injured all looked so poorly, with blood seeping through white sheets, or with sickness eating them away, either way it was a sorry sight.

At Washington's glance Hamilton looked up from his silent vigil next to the other messenger, answering the unspoken question.

"We are acquainted with these men, Your Excellency. We shared the same living space before our subsequent promotions, I'd like to think of them as friends."

Washington took a long breath, nodding at the boy before moving over to where the doctor stood.

"Are they-?"

The doctor looked grave. He was solemn man, who had the frame of one who had seen too much death and destruction in one lifetime. Washington sympathized for the man; he'd had his fair share of tragedy but as a doctor, well, he must have seen ten times the actual death. His eyes saddened even more as he replied.

"I do not think so, Your Excellency. They are grievously wounded; infection has set in, they've lost their share of blood, and are too malnourished to have any fight left in them. It's a miracle they made it back to base."

Washington flinched, he'd failed so many in his lifetime, and he was still failing the men under his command.

"Have they said anything since you tended them?"

"Nothing coherent, they were praying mostly. I believe they know that their time is coming to be sent back to the Lord."

Washington could not muster the strength to reply, merely watching the men. It occurred to him that Alexander was still a teenager, and yet so fairly acquainted with Death, and living in a world where he would forever be surrounded by it. How cruel the universe could be.

"Do you know anything about the men?"

"Not much, only that the messages they returned with could not possibly warrant their attack."

"What was their message?"

"That one," the doctor pointed to the bed where Lafayette was stationed, "returned with a letter from Congress. I've given it to your aide." Hamilton apparently could not even grieve his friend without being reminded of the constant responsibility of being Washington's aide. "The other had a note with him, from Benedict Arnold, requesting your presence for breakfast within the next month."

"I see. Thank you, we are always indebted to your service." George held out his hand for the doctor to shake, which he did, frailly, before busying himself with the other patients.

George turned his sympathetic gaze back to the boys, noticing how the man Alexander was with seemed to be struggling harder than Lafayette's friend. Hamilton leaned closer towards his mouth, his brow furrowed in concentration, before something else flashed over his face, something akin to shock.

The messenger seemed to relax, a peaceful grin spreading over his face as his pains were forgotten. A draft blew through the infirmary, taking with it the soul of Alexander's companion.

To the naked eye Alexander seemed indifferent to it, but George could see the shock and emotion left behind in his eyes. He gently pulled the boy back to his feet, guiding him by the arm away from the body.

Alexander was vaguely aware of movement happening around him. The doctor's assistant covering the body with a sheet, Washington leading him away, Lafayette quietly weeping as Lincoln passed as well, was Alexander supposed to be crying right now? He felt he should be doing something other than staring at the burning of the lantern.

Yet everything about this room sent spikes of pain through his memories, both old and new. The smell of death, and sickness, and the chill, the dreariness of it all, it all reminded him of how he watched his mother die, just like now.

"Alexander. Son, look at me." Washington was trying to coax the boy away from whatever mind state he'd found himself in. _I've never seen him look so lost._

Hamilton came back to him with a sharp inhale of breath, his reflexive response to turn to where Gilbert was mourning Lincoln. So they'd both gone, it hadn't set in before.

"I-I should-" Alexander fumbled in his pockets for the letter he'd been given, but was stopped by Washingtons arm squeezing his gently.

"No, Hamilton, you don't have to be my aide right now. You can stay and grieve your comrades."

"No, I need to, I need to tell your something of the utmost urgency Your Excellency." Hamilton reigned himself in, shaking off the growing uneasiness he felt. "Please, just a moment to have a word with the Marquis de Lafayette, and I shall join you in your quarters."

George felt he should insist that Alexander be dismissed, but knew from the resolved look in his eyes that nothing would be able to persuade him otherwise.

"As you wish, Officer."

Hamilton nodded his gratitude and made his way to where Lafayette was still knelt, explaining his departure it seemed.

"Je dois partir, j'ai trop de souvenirs ici." He murmured, to which the Marquis refocused his sad eyes and nodded in understanding.

Washington was watching him as he exited the infirmary, as if he would break at the slightest touch. He wasn't fragile.

"Shall we back to my office then?"

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." _Why are you being so formal with me, Alexander?_

The boy looked so troubled, and while he had every right to be disturbed by watching Death take a friend, there was something else there. He seemed… paranoid almost.

Hamilton reached the office before Washington did, immediately going to his desk where a tipped inkwell had ruined whatever missive he had been writing. He couldn't even remember who it had been for.

The boy flinched violently when Washington once again grasped his arm, and he reflexively jerked it away from the touch.

"Son, what's going on?"

"I'm not your son."

 _Frustrating, thick boy._

" _Alexander_ , what was so urgent that we rushed back here? Was it the letter from Congress?"

"Letter?" He glanced up in confusion before his face lit with understanding. "Oh! The letter, no, it isn't that. Here, take it, I've not even read it through yet." George accepted the suddenly offered letter, noting how the edges were soaked in blood.

Two men died for this? Or was it something else? What was Hamilton hiding? Washington suddenly remembered how the messenger's dying words had been to Hamilton, how Alexander's face had morphed at the message.

"Alexander," the boy had gotten lost in his thoughts again. "I need you to tell me what has you so disturbed."

The boy took a shaky breath, his eyes pointed down as if he could not meet the general's gaze. He couldn't think of what to say, the message was there, in his head, screaming and as big as ever, but he couldn't get the words past his tongue.

"Well, Your Excellency, you see…" George had never seen Hamilton struggle for words before. Something in the back of the mind darkly hoped it was still the shock of his friend and not whatever burden he carried. "Roberts said something to me, before he died. I don't know if he was even coherent, but he fought to pass those as his dying words."

"Yes, I believe I saw." As gently as he could, Washington guided the boy to a seated position, while he took a kneeling position next to him. "What did he say, Alexander?"

His aide looked up, his eyes wide and frantic as if whatever revelation he carried impacted him once more.

"There is no other way to say this, Your Excellency." George braced himself. "There is a spy in our midst; a traitor."

* * *

 **A.N. dun duN DUN... Is that a cliche? I feel like that's a cliche. Ah well, this story was bound to be a cliche from the moment I thought to do their first meeting. Tell me what you think in the comments, it urges me to write faster.**

 **Tell me what you want to see in the future, any theories you may have, anything at all. Maybe if I get enough reviews I may actually try and have an update schedule, ya never know.**

 **To everyone who followed and favourited, thank you very much for your support you're so appreciated. And a giant thank you to everyone who reviewed, I've personally answered your reviews below, so enjoy. :)**

* * *

 **Zoela: I love Washingdad too! I can't imagine them as anything but a lil family!**

 **Kath2702: Washingdad indeed for the win. And to answer your question, Alexander is indeed flinching due to the contact from Washington. I believe that his life on the islands were extremely cruel and that he has never had to deal with fatherly affection before and therefore doesn't know how to deal with it.**

 **LadyReclaimer: Thanks for your update! I checked out that mini series that you suggested, but I don't think I'm far enough along with it to write anything yet. I'm enjoying it though, so thanks so much for the great recommendation! I always love anything to do with Hamilton or Washington and it's a solid little mini series. I hope you continue reading and responding to my work, always happy to have you!**

 **RedCoatsRedder: Thank you so much! I hope you haven't lost your mind from the wait? Or perhaps from my little cliffhanger? Will anyhow get back to me on the issue of both! Haha, I'm really happy you're enjoying this, I hope it lives up to your expectations!**

 **Purplebrontosaurus: Thanks for your kind review! :) I find that the way Hamilton is written in my stories always differs but he was such a hurricane that may be true! Haha, I hope you enjoy the upcoming chapters too, and that it doesn't bore you too much ;) Thanks for your support!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Alright let me start off and say I'm so sorry for the wait time, I got swamped with life and stuff, not that that matters now because here it is!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing and all rights go to their respective owners.**

* * *

Washington gaped.

"Are you sure?"

The man launched himself from the chair, beginning a pace.

"No! Of course I'm not sure, how could I be? There's no certainty, no tangible proof… Even the man who said so is passed!"

"Son, calm down…" Washington slowly stood, watching as Alexander paced. At his words, the young aide reared towards him.

"I'm not your son!"

There was a pause as the two men stared at each other, one panting, the other completely impassive.

"Alright. But you need to calm yourself Lieutenant," Washington finally placated. "An unfortunate aspect of war is that there are traitors, but no great damage usually comes from it."

"No! You don't understand, Your Excellency. This is not one mere traitor, this a spy, close enough to turn the war. This is a man who has others under his command, secretly. It certainly isn't a mere foot-solider!"

Washington seemed troubled for a moment, letting his worry wash over him like a wave. Why now? Of all times, now, when they were low on munitions and supplies, was not the time to have some sort of traitorous plot unfold.

"What _exactly_ did he say, Hamilton?"

"While delivering their missives they uncovered a treachery of the highest magnitude, a system."

"Anything else?" Washington urged his aide, taking hold of his arms to cease his incessant pacing.

"No. That was his last breath Your Excellency." Alexander's eyes seemed to bore into his commanding officer's, the intensity behind them crazed in both grief and panic. "Why would they be killed, murdered, as messengers?"

Washington looked away, something lost in his eye.

"You saw the missives! Were these to die for?" Hamilton lurched away from Washington's hold, angrily swiping at the forgotten letter at his desk. "Or is the British army killing any foot solider of the Honourable George Washington that they see?"

At Washington's expression Alexander quickly subdued, sitting back into his chair. The two sat in silence for a whiles before Hamilton's voice, much softer, broke the stillness.

"I'm sorry. I was out of line, Your Excellency. Without you we would all be slaughtered."

"…Aren't you all now?" If it had not been so quiet inside the quarters Alexander would never have heard Washington's words.

The vulnerability Washington displayed took Hamilton off-guard, no one would've expected the great George Washington to ever look self-conscious. Yet, he did. He looked lost. And the grief on his face was enough to take Alexander's breath away.

"Sir?"

"Aren't you all being slaughtered now? Are you not all dying here? Be it from the violence, or the disease, or the starvation," George was aware that his voice was steadily raising in volume, and that Hamilton had begun to lean away from it. "I've killed more men than any British attack has. This camp may as well be Hell, yet they treat me like I'm heaven sent. I've had food every night, how many men were starved to make that happen?"

"Your Excellency without you-"

"I don't care about the war anymore, I care about my men getting back to their families."

"General, please! You mustn't say that, you're all we have that's keeping us from desolation. I was wrong in what I said. We're fighting for a free country, for justice, for our very lives. If we do not fight we may as well be dead."

Alexander had uncharacteristically latched onto George's arm, his grip tight.

"We need to stay strong. You needn't worry about the traitor, I will deal with it," Washington began to protest but Hamilton cut over him, "and I'll update you periodically."

It occurred to Washington, almost comically, that he and his officer had switched places, he being comforted and Hamilton doing the comforting. The massive task of a traitorous system had been too much for the young officer a mere fifteen minutes ago, yet now he offers to take the brunt of it alone.

 _How many times have you taken a task to alleviate me of stress, while nearly crumbling yourself?_

"No. We can take this together, a system of spies means one of my higher officers has betrayed me, and I'm afraid my ego cannot let that go." It was sorry attempt of humour, but it was all he could do.

Hamilton's lips quirked in what may have been a smile, pleasing George to no end.

"It will have to wait, Your Excellency, I'm to Boston in the morning."

In Hamilton's true fashion he did not notice the sudden change in both Washington's expression and demeanour as he was reminded of Hamilton's latest mission.

Hamilton was to ride out to Boston and communicate with the Captain there, delivering a letter written in Washington's own hand on how they could try new advancement strategies. It was extremely important, crucial even, to the survival of everyone stationed there.

But all Washington could see was _Alexander, brought back to him beaten and bloodied. Attacked. Alexander, gasping in pain. Alexander, dying._

"No!"

Hamilton startled at the sudden break in the silence, his neat handwriting marred with a jerky slip.

"What is it, Your Excellency?"

"You're not to go to Boston."

"Excuse me?" Alexander's eyes widened in alarm.

"I've changed my mind, allow Laurens to go in your stead. You trust him don't you?"

"I've ridden with messages from you before, General."

"Not of this distance, you haven't."

"And I will never, if you do not let me go for a first time. It's a few days' ride, that is not exactly cross-country."

"You will not be going Alexander. That is final." Alexander stood angrily, raising to meet George's eyes with a glare.

"You are making a mistake."

"Do not take that tone with me, boy. I am your commanding officer." Alexander scoffed in annoyance, beginning to gather his things. "We've many more things to worry about than that message, send Laurens for it."

"Yes, Your Excellency," Alexander finally ground out.

"Did I dismiss you, Lieutenant?"

"Consider it my leave, General."

"We are not done here."

"I propose that we are."

That, it seemed, was the final straw for Washington.

"Sit. down. Or Lord help me-"

"You just instructed me to attend my task to Laurens!"

"Hamilton," George pinched the bride of his nose in frustration, "I've had a considerably _bad_ day. Do not push me now."

Hamilton, to his credit, did sit down, but he was far from over.

"I can do this, Your Excellency. My ride times are that of half my comrades, I'd be back before the end of next week."

"Alexander, there are more pressing matters at hand. Laurens is your closest comrade is he not? In skill and relationship, I'm sure; I'd trust no other man with a message of this magnitude."

"Why not have Laurens take _my_ position for the week while I take the missive, I know the complexities it took to craft it, Laurens does not."

 _I am trying to keep you safe, you stupid boy!_ Washington internally raged, knowing from his limited experience that once Hamilton had latched onto something it was easier to let him have it than fight for your stance.

"Fine, officer. But if you ever take this attitude with me again there will be severe repercussions." _Liar._

Alexander's face split into a smile and it almost made the risk worth it.

"I'll do anything and everything you need me to, and more, when I return Your Excellency. And I'll be back in less than a fortnight, you'll see."

Alexander began hurriedly gathering his things and cleaning his station, talking a hundred miles an hour. At one point he stopped, looking up at George as if remembering that he had not yet been dismissed, but quickly resumed at his stout nod.

George for his part, why trying not to express his amusement, and annoyance, of course.

* * *

"Ah! C'est le petit lion!"

"Alexander! How good of you to finally join us." Alexander entered his tent to the familiar sounds of his friends jests.

"I apologize gentlemen, I was-"

"Caught up at work," the cohort chimed, laughing at the pink tinge Alexander's cheeks took.

"Yes we know, _Lieutenant Hamilton._ Your work is very important indeed, but surely His Excellency would allow you a nights off considering." Burr added, solemnly nursing his drink.

"His Excellency was more than inclined to allow me a nights off and more, but there was business that could not wait," Hamilton retorted. "It was on my prerogative that we were both kept into this hour."

Lafayette and Alexander shared a meaningful glance, in which conveyed to Hamilton that he was not the only one to receive a message. The gaze was broken as Laurens pushed a tankard into his hand, clapping a hand over his shoulder.

"Tonight we drink to our fallen comrades, and friends. May they find peace in the Lord's kingdom."

"May they find peace." Alexander echoed, and they drank.

"Anything that pertains to any of us why you were late this eve, Hamilton?"

"Actually, it does," Alexander straightened himself and lowered his voice to do a surprisingly accurate imitation of Washington, "Officer Laurens, you shall take over Officer Hamilton's position as aide-de-camp until such a time in which Lieutenant Hamilton returns from his allotted mission. I must of course, stress to you, that any correspondences are strictly confidential and as such you will not have the same clearance as Lieutenant Hamilton."

By the end of his speech his friends were laughing, all except Burr, at his imitation.

"Is it true though? Is Johny over here going to be aide-de-camp in your absence?" Hercules asked, gulping back the last of his drink.

"Oh yes, that is true. I'd have no one besides Laurens in my place."

At this Burr felt his ears burn in indignation, Alexander was aware that he'd had ambitions of becoming the General's aide, and still hoped that he could be hired to some other ranking official, an opportunity to work as the General's stand in would have been extremely beneficial.

"Where will you be heading to, mon ami?"

"That's classified stuff, Lafayette." Hamilton smirked, dodging the loosely thrown swat Gilbert threw at him.

"Well if you're talking in terms of class, _I_ do outclass all you peasants as Marquis de Lafayette."

Lafayette could not even finish his sentence before dissolving into a fit of laughter with the rest of the cohort, all laughing over each other's jesting calls.

"But our lil Alex, will be cautious," Mulligan caught Alexander in a headlock, ruffling his hair, "won't he?"

"I'll not be careful with my dagger if you do not unhand me," Alexander retorted, righting himself indignantly while the others laughed at his expense. Taking another swig of ale he did finally reply. "I'll be as cautious as caution dictates. Nothing is going to happen to me."

* * *

 **A.N. I know what you're thinking, "um excuse me, Gizmo, this is not a chapter it's pure filler." And you're right! And filler is a killer to write, but has to be written (don't ask me why apparently that's just how it works). Everyone who reviewed last chapter, I love you!**

 **And to everyone who suggested something, I heard you, don't worry. I took all suggestions into great consideration and you'll just have to stay tuned to see. ;)**

* * *

 **Purplebrontosaurus: First off, love the username. Second off, thanks for the review, when I get stuck in a writers block rut I always go back and read my reviews and it helps me out of it! I'm glad you like how Ham is written, I'm never sure with characters like these!**

 **RedCoatsRedder: No thank YOU, you're amazing and I love you! I hope you like it, despite its filler nature. It's always nice to have someone who supports you though, and I hope the next couple chapters please you more than this!**

 **CuteLittleMousie: Unexpected is basically my middle name, so hell yeah, unexpected. Fanfiction is great for stuff like that, hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Britchick: Thanks for the lovely review! I'm so thankful for feedback like yours, it really helps me gauge what needs to be done, or what's working in a story! I hope the development, however small in this chapter, is working well with you. Also, love the suggestion, thats something I never would have though of on my own! Can't wait! ;)**

 **Fir3danc3r: Thanks for your review! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story and this chapter!**

 **andHamiltonwrotetheother51: BOI YOUR REVIEW IS SO NICE I LOVE IT.**

 **Ikia: Thanks! Thanks for the review too! Hope you like it!**

 **To everyone above: This chapter is for YOU, you guys are so supportive!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. Shit it's been a while for this site, sorry about that. I got really discouraged after the last chapter I guess, but I'm back and might even start updating this again. If you follow me on A03 you already know whats up but I love you all anyways. :)**

 **Disclaimer: Standard stuff, don't own it, never will.**

* * *

"No!"

Washington felt a warm spray hit his face and for a moment the world was painstakingly still.

Then the crushing weight of a body slammed into his chest.

* * *

 _Two weeks prior_

"Lieutenant Hamilton! Sir!" A messenger wove his way around the congested camp, his balance slipping on the sodden ground. The man in question looked up from the table he was stationed at, an overhang having been set up to protect him from the complete downpour.

"Yes, Officer," Hamilton acknowledged, taking in the boy. _Gods, he's younger than I. Either recruitment is especially desperate or especially daft._ "What is it that you bring this time?"

"Another correspondence from General Washington sir," the boy answered easily, handing Hamilton said envelope. The fourth of the past week it seemed. "If I may be so bold sir…"

"You may certainly try." Hamilton's voice was almost amused as he sat once more, casting a glance at the boy that was so reminiscent of Washington that any close to the general would have looked twice.

"Well, this is the fourth of the week, I know because I'm in charge of delivering them, and there's been four specifically for you _this week_ , which must be the entirety of the general's personal message staff, and you've received almost twenty missives from His Excellency in your stay here," the boy rambled on, and Alexander briefly wondered if this is how Washington felt with him. "What I mean to say sir, is perhaps you _should_ return."

Ah, so this is what the boy had been trying to say. The thought was tempting indeed, for his small delay in Boston had turned into a month's absence from his home.

"Tis a tempting notion, Officer. I'd very much like to return to base soon."

"Then why don't you?"

 _Because of a dammed spy, and because you're all being slaughtered here and I can actually_ do something _in this devastation, this time. And… I may or may not enjoy being a few hours' ride away from a certain Schuyler sister…_

"There's other business to attend to here, of course. Plus, the foods better." Hamilton winked at the messenger, who recognized the dismissal as what it was, but who's lips quirked in a semblance of a smile.

Because the thought of food, let alone _good_ food was laughable around here. They'd been completely desolated by the British forces, and their prospects did not look good. Every second day it seemed like more men were brought back bloodied and dying or already dead; no one survived a wound due to lack of supplies. As it was half the camp was starving, and Hamilton could not find it in him to leave before Congress sent this camp the supplies they'd been promised.

No one complained about the extra help, in fact it seemed the captains here were grateful for his presence, his pure stubbornness sometimes helped lift spirits. Hamilton also offered valuable advice, having studied Washington's technique of war strategy and being particularly intelligent himself, proving himself more than worth it to keep around.

And he _needed_ to crack whatever code this was, because he was sure it had to do with the system of traitors that had infected their army.

 _What are these symbols here?" Alexander stopped in the middle of the devastated city, pointing towards some etchings in the buildings. "I've seen them around the structures before."_

 _"We aren't sure sir, probably the local children when there were children left. It means nothing to any of us, nor do they resemble any sort of religious markings."_

 _Alexander examined the symbol once more, more critically._

 _"How curious indeed."_

 _"Lieutenant please, I must urge you to come inside and quickly. Those are storm clouds in the making."_

 _"I'll be right with you," Alexander began to quickly take down the etching on a spare piece of parchment, moving as quickly as he could and still feeling rushed._

 _"Lieutenant Hamilton, I must insist!"_

 _"I'm coming!"_

 _The last marking was taken and he followed his guide, casting one last look at the symbol he knew had to have some significance. He could feel it._

Over the course of his stay he'd found more symbols resembling the first one he took down, and he always made sure to carefully catalogue every one. Sometimes they'd be found in groups, others in single markings. They clearly meant something, and it was definitely not the work of children. Despite his best efforts, he could not find a way to decode the symbols in the camp, search as he may for someone who may be using them.

And the general, good Lord the general, was growing more and more impatient everyday. What started as simple missives soon turned into demands for Hamilton's return.

Hamilton shuddered to think of the consequences of denying His Excellency outright not once, not twice, but _five times._

Washington was anxious for his aide to return, not that Laurens was a bad aide, he just _wasn't Hamilton_. As foolish it was, when Hamilton first sent word that he was unable to return after delivering the initial message, due to the storms, and then later refusing to return, George had felt fear run its course through his veins. In short terms, he missed the boy.

He'd overheard from Laurens and the Marquis' conversations that personally, Hamilton was doing as fine as he was professionally. However, the conditions in the Boston camp were abhorrent, little food, little medical, and as he understood his recent reports, a complete blood bath.

He may or may not have also heard that that Schuyler girl Alexander met at Phillip's ball was staying in closer proximity in Boston than home base. He hadn't realized their correspondence had extended as far as it had, he hadn't know Alexander had become besotted.

Alexander opened the latest missive, longing for the familiarity of his home. Because, as foolish as it was, when he first sent word that he was unable to return, and then later because he couldn't leave yet, he'd felt longing course through his veins. In short terms, he was homesick.

He missed John and Gilbert and Hercules, maybe even Burr. He missed his job, despite his indignation at the denial of a command, and he missed Washington. Foolish sentiment.

 _Hamilton._

 _I am no longer requesting. As your commanding officer,_

 _you will obey my request. I'm to visit Benedict_

 _Arnold in a weeks' time, you are a three days ride away from his_

 _residence. You will join me there._

 _-Washington._

Maybe leaving wouldn't be so bad, Congress had agreed to send some supplies, not as much as they'd hoped but it helped... This code could be worked upon on his own desk instead of here...

Seeing Eliza had been wonderful, and he was quite certain he could spend the rest of his life with her at his side. He eyed her latest letter,

" _You've received my father's blessing,_ " especially stood out. Dear god Alexander hoped that what he felt for her was love. No. He _knew_ he loved her, just because he had no experience with family, or children, or love, doesn't mean he is ruined for it.

Alexander Hamilton loved Elizabeth Schuyler. He could do this.

He penned his response back to her, sending it away with a messenger and beginning to pack his things, which had never truly been unpacked. He would surprise Eliza tonight, and confess his love unlike anything he'd said in his letters. He had seen her last week when he had asked for their blessing, but she wasn't expecting to see him for a whiles yet.

If he rode hard he could see Eliza before sundown, and then double back. He had to do something first though, something important.

Then he would ride as the general had requested.

* * *

"Alexander!" It was Eliza who opened the door for him, just as he had hoped it would be. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you'd be back for weeks yet, are you still stationed in Boston? Are you leaving?"

Perhaps one of the things he loved most about his love is that she could talk as fast as he, and she never bored you. Yet for the moment he did not need words, just what was tucked into his uniform pocket.

The Schuyler household sounded just as homely as it had when he visited here before, with Eliza's sisters laughing in the other room, and the bustle of the household staff as they went about their business. Perhaps it was slightly rude to show up uninvited, but this was something to be done in person.

"Betsy who is it?" Angelica's voice lilted from the sitting room, and Alexander grinned at the sound of it. They had also kept a correspondence, but he loved her in a different way than Eliza. He knew that it was Eliza that he would marry, and Angelica who would be kept as a most cherished friend.

"Hi Eliza," Alex started sheepishly, "I won't impose on your family, I only need to speak to you."

By this point, both Angelica and Peggy had poked their head out of the drawing room, their mouths falling open in amused shock. Eliza, as if she could sense their presences, glanced back in utter shock before turning back to Alexander.

"No, no of course not. You are not imposing, please, come inside. You're absolutely soaked," she continued to fuss over him like she was not absolutely shellshocked at his sudden appearance. "Were you hear to speak to my father?"

Alexander chuckled nervously, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks as he revealed his tucked arm, presenting her with a bundle of flowers. "No, I'm here for you Eliza."

"Oh." The both of them were blushing now.

"Alexander!" Angelica and Peggy it seemed had decided it was time to make their true appearance. He embraced the both of them, savouring the feeling of having a family, before straightening up in front of the imposing figure of Phillip Schuyler.

"Sir," he gave a small bow, "I hope I have not disrespected you too dearly by coming unannounced."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then as if sensing Alexander's intentions, a smile split his face and he clapped Alexander on the back.

"Nonsense! You are always welcomed here son." Alexander restrained his flinch, smiling gratefully at him.

"With your permission sir, I'd like a moment alone with Eliza…"

Eliza's chestnut eyes seemed to grow even wider, and she nodded furiously, ushering Alexander towards the drawing room before her father could reply.

"Did you ride all the way here only to speak with me?" Alexander loved her voice, he could listen to it for hours on end, so powerful and soft.

"I'd ride a life's time to exchange but a word with you, love."

She smiled then, that pretty smile that lit up her eyes in the candlelight.

"I'd wait a lifetime to exchange a word with you."

And then Alexander _knew_. He had to do it now, he could feel it in his bones. Yet as he tried to clasp his hands over the metal he found he couldn't get a good grip on it. He was fumbling about his pockets and making a complete fool of himself and oh God, this wasn't going as well as he'd hoped and then finally, he grasped the ring.

"Instead of waiting a lifetime my love, would you spend one with me?" As he said it he dropped into my a kneel, withdrawing the ring from his pocket.

When Eliza realized what was happening all breath was stolen away, all speech became meaningless, and there was nothing else in the world except her and her Alexander.

He must have mistaken her silence for hesitance for he began to ramble in the way he does when he feels out of control.

"I know I have not a dollar to my name, nor any standing in the army. All I have to offer is what I came here with, my knowledge, my honour, and a few college credits. But we could figure things out, I promise I will do my best to provide for you. You, and your family, they bring a different side of me to light, I feel I've grown to love them as I could a family. I've lived without one so long, I wasn't sure if I knew how to anymore, but I am sure of this and I am as sure of the memory of my mother. As long as I'm alive Eliza, I swear to god you'll never feel-"

Before he had finished the sentence Alexander felt Eliza's body crash into his, enveloping him in her warm embrace.

"My dear Alexander, nothing has given me more joy than to say 'I do' to you."

A relief unlike any other he'd ever experienced washed over Hamilton then, because until then there had always been a voice nagging him that he was much to broken, much too poor, for someone amazing like Eliza to love.

Yet when he slipped the ring on her finger he didn't feel so broken anymore.

* * *

"Lieutenant Hamilton, how good it is to see you, do you travel with General Washington?" Alexander was greeted by an overeager aide of Arnold's, and he instantly found himself annoyed with him; perhaps it had to do with the long days' ride he'd just completed.

"No, my dear sir. I travel alone, to be reunited with the general once he makes his appearance in two days time, I imagine."

"I see, come, come inside. The air is chilled and the ground wet, hardly an environment to make conversation in," the aide said, ushering Hamilton into the grounds. "Nicolson will take your horse."

"Much appreciated, I'm afraid I do not have the pleasure of knowing your name."

"Kingsley, aide of General Arnold."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Hamilton lied easily. In truth he hoped he was shown to a place he could sleep and be warm for the first time in five weeks.

"Pleasure is all mine, I'm sure. Come, you must be tired. I will show you your quarters for the next two weeks."

 _Two weeks? That's how long this blasted visit is to last?_

"Thank you, the ride was long."

"I'm sure it must have been." How was it that they occupied the same position, Hamilton really having the superior job, and yet Kingsley sounded like he thought he was so much better than Alexander?

Eventually they stopped at a door in one of the many twisting halls of this mansion, which Alexander inferred was to be his quarters. Kingsley presented it to him as if he were some kind of servant, despite the overall luxury of the room itself. It was a pleasantly cozy room, better than anything Alexander had at either camp, with cotton sheets embroidered with burgundy thread, and a cedar desk equipped with everything he would need to work. No windows though, and a bell was hanging near the bed. A wardrobe stood just adjacent to the bed, and a small book shelf on the opposite wall.

"Thank you, it's lovely."

"My employer wishes only for the comfort of yourself and General Washington. His quarters are located just around the corner, a bell will ring if he wishes for your presence while inside his room." Kingsley smiled tightly at Hamilton, no doubt hoping he would flush at the implication of some sort of servants' bell.

"How considerate of your employer. Please, give him my regards." Hamilton returned the gesture, offering his hand to shake.

"I will." Kingsley took the hand, they shook. The door shut behind Kingsley, and the only sound in the room was silence.

Alexander already hated it here.

* * *

"Good morrow, Officer Hamilton." To Hamilton's complete surprise, Benedict Arnold himself stood in the doorway of Alexander's room, which he had left as minimally as possible.

"Good morrow, General Arnold," Alexander replied.

"I've seen you little about the grounds, I was worried you did not enjoy it here."

"Of course not sir, I've merely been working in anticipation of the general's arrival," Hamilton replied.

"I see, you are quite close with the general, are you not?"

The question took Alexander aback, and for the few seconds it took him to regain his bearings he stared at Arnold in silence.

"Well?"

Arnold had moved into his room, standing almost behind Alexander and despite his dislike for this place Hamilton was becoming both uncomfortable and angry at the intrusion of his space.

"I would not say that my relationship with the general extends past one of of my post, sir."

"Yes but as far as that goes, you spend many hours with him, don't you?"

"My post requires me to-" Hamilton clenched his jaw as he answered, not liking Arnold's general tone.

"Yes, thank you Officer Hamilton. You've been ever enlightening."

"May I ask what you needed _enlightenment_ on," Hamilton asked. He turned back to his works, picking up the quill shakily, beginning to feel threatened.

"That would give away the surprise," he felt Arnold's hand lay across his shoulder and immediately tensed. "Come with me now boy, Washington arrives soon."

"Yes sir."

He stood, wondering when Arnold would release him, only to be jerked back as Arnold looked at his desk.

"What's this then?" He flicked at the pages and pages of keys and symbols that Hamilton had dedicated his time to.

"Work for the General, sir." Hamilton went to collect and cover the pages, yet the general snatched his arm, holding it in a bruising grip. "Sir?"

"Where did you first see these markings, boy?"

"I didn't," he lied. "I saw them for the first time when Washington sent them to me." Alexander jerked his arm but the general held fast.

"Why does he believe them significant?"

More struggling, just as fruitless, "I'm not at liberty to say sir, kindly release my arm." Had he not been holding his quill so tightly Hamilton speculated he may have drawn his gun in anxiety.

"A senior officer just asked you a question."

"And I _told_ you, that I don't-"

"General Washington has arrived sir." Kingsley's voice cut across any excuse Alexander had formulated, not casting a second glance to the position the two were in.

"Thank you," Arnold spoke before Hamilton could, "we'll join you momentarily."

"Yes, sir." Kingsley left and Alexander felt trapped, not like Kingsley would be all too inclined to help him, but still.

"Sir, I must insist that you release me." Hamilton had a dangerously suspicious look in his eyes.

As if just realizing his grasp on the boy Arnold instantly let go, patting his back and repeating apologies and excuses, yet it seemed inexplicably... fake.

"You are a good man Hamilton, I can see why the general finds such value in you. Shame he keeps you behind a desk."

Normally, Hamilton would agree wholeheartedly and make this known. Today however, he would not because he was on edge around Arnold and didn't want him to believe he wasn't loyal.

"The general placed me in a most prestigious position, I'm quite grateful for the opportunity," he started, their voices both back to conversational. "If he should chose to provide me a battalion I would be most grateful, in the name of his service, of course."

"Of course."

Hamilton didn't quite believe Arnold when he spoke of loyalty.

* * *

"General Washington, it is an honour and a pleasure to see you."

"Benedict, it has been too long. Please, we do not need to bother with formalities, you and I have been well acquainted for long enough now."

"Indeed, come inside, the weathers been terrible as of late," Arnold ushered Washington inside.

"It has. Did my aide-de-camp make it here from Boston?"

"Yes, two days ago. Though I'm afraid I've seen little of him in those two days, he hardly leaves his desk."

Washington chuckled fondly, "yes, that's Alexander for you. His mission in Boston was meant to be a week and a half at most, yet it was somehow expanded to an additional month."

 _Look at how his eye shines with fondness, and is that longing? The general is quite fond of the boy indeed, how interesting._

"Shall we take lunch in my study and then discuss some important matters?" It was the expected offer, as this is what Washington had come for, discussing the newest lines of placement, tactics, and bases with Arnold. And yet,

"Of course, would you delay for an hours' time however, I'm... tired." The trip wasn't a long one.

"Of course, allow my aide to take you to your rooms."

Washington nodded, striding away with Kingsley, filling the room with his pure power and authority. It was fitting that he was the leader of the continental army, because he could stand in a room with the king himself and would have the higher authority.

"The bell on the left is for the house staff, the right is connected to your aide-de-camp." Kingsley explained, and for a second Washington let his disgust show on his face. He couldn't imagine calling Alexander to him like some dog or waiter. That would not be how he was reunited with the boy.

"Speaking of, where are Lieutenant Hamilton's rooms?"

"His room is around the corner, I will summon him if you wish," Kingsley reached for the bell's cord but Washington was already catching it.

"I am not quite ready, I'll summon him when I see fit," he ground out, angered for a reason he did not wish to examine right now.

"Of course, my apologies Your Excellency." Arnold's aide bowed and left, casting a glance down the hall.

Washington could tell they were certainly more formal here than his base, based on how they constructed the social structure between servant and employer alone. Hamilton was not there to meet him, which meant he was either cross with him, or was instructed not to. It could be the latter, in a warped way, he could be cross for being forced to return to Washington's direct staff. Did he not enjoy it as much as Washington had thought he did?

Perhaps he didn't like that he would be here for two more weeks, seeing how they treat staff. Or maybe he still wanted a command, and that's why he enjoyed Boston. Did he enjoy Boston? He must have, he stayed there three additional weeks.

Washington had not even noticed himself leaving his rooms, let alone rapping his knuckles against the door of Hamilton's.

"Sir-" Alexander opened the door, taking a slight step back as he realized it was Washington that stood in front of him. "Oh, hello Your Excellency." Alexander pivoted awkwardly, allowing George access to his rooms, which were exponentially smaller than Washington's.

"Alexander," he replied.

This was supposed to be the part where he screamed at Hamilton, and put him in his place for his disobedience. He was expecting it, Alexander was expecting it, and yet it didn't come.

At the same time both men took an involuntary step towards the other, both with words never quite making it past their tongues. They both backed down. Finally, the silence was broken.

"You disobeyed me."

"I know."

"That might make it worse son."

"I'm not your son, and only a fool would not see that what I did was insubordination."

"Then what possessed you to do it? I could have you fired, perhaps worse, for it."

Alexander looked at Washington then, reminding the general that he truly was just a child in a war. Underneath his bravado he was insecure and scared, just trying to prove himself.

"Would you have me fired, Your Excellency?"

"I have no plans of it as of yet, Hamilton, but do not think I take insubordination lightly."

"I don't," his head bowed in submission, he could be so brash and so shy in the same hour, "I was truly repentant every time I denied you, Your Excellency. But, I couldn't leave, there were so many reasons why I couldn't leave… None of which I will waste your time with, just know that I am sorry."

Washington believed him.

"Forget it now. The storm I could forgive, I would have ordered you to stay there and brave it even if you did not decide to do so yourself, but the storm had passed for two weeks and you still refused to come ho- back."

The men stared at each other in silence before,

"They were all starving."

George flinched, he knew, he knew and he had tried to get them more food but he had to find food for the entire army, and Boston had seemed like a lost cause.

"I know. I tried."

"So did I."

Silence. He was just a boy, a boy who had turned twenty six weeks and three days ago, he was so young and he still thought he could help everyone in the world. He tried saving them all. No, he knew that everyone couldn't be saved, and that was sadder.

Washington clasped Alexander's shoulder, and with the ghost of General Arnold's touch still fresh in his mind, Alexander allowed himself to relax into it instead of pulling away.

"You did well Alex," George couldn't help the fondness that flooded his veins. "You mentioned, you had found something important in Boston, about the horses?"

'The horses' was the codename lovingly given to the spy system Alexander had come up with.

"Yes, a code. It's quite complex and does not use the alphabet the way we know it, I've been unable to break it sir, I did not want to risk it being intercepted had I sent it to you through missive."

"Very well, come along. You did not greet me when I arrived, I had worried that I angered you somehow," Washington joked as Hamilton picked up a blank piece of parchment and quill to take notes during the meeting.

Hamilton chuckled nervously, huffing a piece of hair away from his eyes due to his full hands, a mannerism so familiar to Washington that it made his heart swell.

"Despite my short fuse, I was not angry. I'm sorry I missed your arrival, I had become preoccupied."

"It is a very Hamilton excuse," he quipped, missing the way Alexander got a far off look. His 'preoccupation' was him trying to gather himself after Arnold's little visit.

Hamilton merely chuckled, following behind Washington, only to have the general slow till they were side by side.

"I've not seen you for four and a half weeks Hamilton, I'd enjoy it if you were not only a voice behind my shoulder."

Alexander smiled and nodded.

* * *

"General, I see you've brought your aide." Arnold regarded Alexander as he would every staff member, with the distain only an aristocratic snob could pull off. "I'd of brought my own had I known we'd be flaunting the excellent work of our staff."

George clenched his jaw but managed to keep his voice level, "Alexander is not something to flaunt, he offers valuable advice and takes excellent notes during meetings, I trust no other staff member as much as I trust Lieutenant Hamilton."

"Of course," he offered George a chair but neglected to give one to Alexander. "As long as he does not interrupt us."

Hamilton could see that George wanted to fight Benedict on this, so he intervened. They couldn't afford to have this two weeks be a spitting match between the two men.

"I won't, General Arnold. You won't even notice me." Washington turned his head at the sound of his voice, in which they locked eyes and Hamilton shook his head discreetly, conveying his message perfectly clearly.

Arnold nodded and took his seat, followed stiffly by Washington.

From his standing position Alexander was able to see both generals' frames, and he noticed that Arnold was carrying not only a gun but a dagger as well. It was not normal practice to come to these meetings armed, General Washington never carried his weapons to them.

It put him on edge.

A glass shattered, along with it Arnold's leather folder of documents.

"Blast!" The general chuckled, smiling at Washington who had stood in surprise.

"Allow me," Hamilton offered kneeling to retrieve the scattered documents. Arnold started as soon as Hamilton first touched the documents, causing Hamilton to cast a curious glance at them.

There. At the bottom of the corner, where the insignia goes, Hamilton knew that signal. He'd just spent a month trying to decode it.

He and Arnold's eyes locked.

* * *

 **A.N: Yup, so that's the next chapter. Again, sorry for the wait, I was just really not feeling it. Hope you all enjoyed it, and please leave a review so the next update doesn't take almost a year. XD**


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